


Bitch-slap

by Aneas



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneas/pseuds/Aneas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam knows that sometimes, life surprises you with irony. And sometimes, life bitch-slaps you with it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitch-slap

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Bitch-slap.  
> Rating: Mature.  
> Pairing: Adam/Kris.  
> Disclaimer: This portrayal is entirely fictional. Not for profit, just for our entertainment.  
> Word-count: 4500  
> Warnings: None.  
> Betas: The luscious Cookie57 . You can't imagine how awesome she is. This fic is our baby. Our cracky, cracky baby.  
> Notes: This fic was conceived in one of her threads, so it's all Jerakeen's fault. I swear! Her tiara made us do it!

 

 

 

 

 

Adam knows that sometimes, life surprises you with irony. And sometimes, life bitch-slaps you with it. Kris moving in with him after the divorce? That's surprisingly ironic. Finding Kris french kissing Drake on Adam's sofa? That's the bitch-slap.

"Am I interrupting?" He says icily from the door, because there is a difference between suffering in silence and being a masochist, and right now watching Drake's hand burrow under Kris' shirt is dangerously close to masochism. And also? It's giving him the hives. At the sound of his voice, Drake has the grace to blush, _"Jerk!"_ Adam thinks, but Kris just smiles beatifically.

"Adam!" He lifts up from Drake's lap and runs to wrap himself around Adam. "You're home! I missed you so much!" His voice sounds strange, and he's slurring the words.

"He's high." Drake says from the sofa.

"Yeah, I gathered that much by the way he's trying to hump my leg." Adam answers, dryly.

"It's better if you let him do whatever he wants to do," says Drake smiling, still sitting on the sofa, his tanned and bared arms resting over the headrest.

"I'm thinking no, honey, but thanks for your input." Adam has to work to keep his distance from Kris, who's talking a mile a minute, an endearingly cute and confusing string of words that make no sense whatsoever.

"Just trying to help," Drake offers, all southern accent and lazy smiles.

"Oh, I bet you are, you've always been so helpful," Adam replies, jumping out of Kris' reach finally.

"Ouch, somebody's bitchy. I wonder why." Drake smirks from his secure place on the sofa, because with Adam busily trying to a) calm Kris down and b) keep the table between them at all times, he knows it's impossible for Adam to come and cuff him on the back of his head.

"Kris, baby, just hold on a second, ok?" Adam says sternly, after some jumping and dodging and struggling, and Kris must have heard something in his voice, because he abruptly stops and sits on the floor.

"I'll wait," he sighs.

"Uhmm…" Adam says, and looks at Drake, who shrugs. Then he looks at Kris again. Kris smiles an encouraging and earnest smile. In other circumstances, the smile would be as lovely as any of the other seventeen Kris smiles that Adam has been pathetically categorizing. But right now, that smile is giving him the chills. Slowly, trying not to spook Kris, he moves closer to the sofa. "Spill," he orders, snapping his fingers at Drake and never breaking eye contact with Kris, who's still sitting on the floor. And who keeps on smiling. It's scary.

"Don't blame me. I just came to give you the invitation for the gallery's opening party, and he was fine. We were talking and he offered me something to drink, so he poured us both a shot of some stuff that smelled like grass and then-" Adam interrupts him.

"Oh, please tell me he didn't take the green bottle from the bar," he begs. Brad gave him that bottle. It was hidden for a reason.

"He didn't take the green bottle from the bar?" Drake complies.

"Fuck!" He says, and Kris shouts "Language!" from the floor. Adam jumps and mumbles an apology, and tries not to kill Drake when he hears him snickering.

"Are you potty trained too?" he asks, and Adam swears to God that as soon as Kris is sober, he will kill his ex with his own hands. Drake must be receiving the homicide vibes Adam's giving off, because he gracefully rises from the sofa and kisses him on the cheek. "As entertaining as this is, I must go. You know, things to do, places to be, american idols to kiss... my typical day."

"I hate you," Adam says, totally serious.

"Awww, me too, lover, me too. Bye, Kris!"

"Bye, Drake!" Kris waves happily from his position on the floor, and Adam feels the beginning of an epic headache. They both hear the front door closing, but no one moves. Kris smiles widely, and Adam swallows. Then Kris starts talking. "Guess what?"

"I'm afraid to ask." Adam says apprehensively.

"I had a vision," says Kris, voice deep and meaningful. A little slurred, but meaningful all the same.

"A vision," Adam repeats. Oh, God.

Brad is so dead; it's not even funny. ( _"It's a really wholesome juice, sweetie, I promise"_ he said.) Totally organic, Adam's ass. He has to find himself some new friends. Immediately.

"Yes. I had a vision, like when you were at Burning Man. And now I'm going to change my life, too, 'cause that's what you do, when you have a revelation, right?" Kris gestures wildly, both arms reaching out to the ceiling. "I'm going to be wild, and have fun, and not give a damn. I'll drink, and smoke and...and eat a lot of carbs. I'll drive fast, and I'll park over crosswalks and I'll turn left whenever I want and I'll spit on the street and...and...and I'll take books out of the library and never give them back! What do you think?"

Adam tries not to laugh out loud. "Yeah, that's totally badass, Kris".

"I know." He says gravely, nodding. "It's so cool not having to do what people expect from me anymore."

Adam comes closer and extends his hand down to Kris. "Yeah, baby, sounds like a plan. What about a power nap before pillaging all the libraries of the county?"

Kris takes his hand and Adam guides him towards his room. He looks up at Adam with suspicious eyes.

"Are you laughing at me? You totally are," he says, still clutching Adam's hand. "You're not taking me seriously. Nobody takes me seriously." He pouts. "It's because of my size."

"Sure, that and the cuteness." Because in Adam's humble opinion, Kris is probably the cutest thing ever right now, what with the eyes, and the hair in disarray and the blurry words that make his accent even stronger.

Kris disagrees. "No, it's only the size. You're cute too, but everybody takes you seriously," he says thoughtfully, and Adam smiles, opening the door to Kris's room. "If I were taller... Hey, would you lend me your platform boots?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, baby. You'd probably break both your ankles," Adam answers, sensibly, pushing him on the bed.

"Yeah. I should train, beforehand. Nobody told me I had to train in gay things." Kris is lying back on his bed; Adam taking his shoes off, _(die, stupid converse, die)_. Kris sits up abruptly and takes Adam's arm. "I kissed Drake!"

And just like that, there's rage burning in Adam's stomach. He forces his voice to be steady. "I saw you."

"He's a good kisser."

"Yes, he is."

"He was your boyfriend but you weren't in love with him. Why not? He's hot." Kris' puzzled look is usually one of Adam's favorites, just not under these circumstances.

"I know."

"You said he was dreamy." Kris sounds accusing.

"He is dreamy. It just didn't work," Adam says. Kris looks at him and pets his arm.

"It didn't work with Katy either. She's dreamy, too. Maybe I wasn't dreamy enough for her." Kris' finger runs down Adam's sleeve, and he's caressing the back of Adam's hand, almost absently. "You only called me distracting. Do you think I'm too short to be dreamy?"

Adam never thought he was a patient person. This conversation is proving him wrong.

"No, baby, you're incredibly dreamy. But you better sleep for a while if you want to be even dreamier." Is that even a word? Kris doesn't seem to care the damage Adam's probably doing to the English language. He just turns on his side, and puts his hand under the pillow. Seriously, he's killing Adam with the cuteness.

"I don't want to be dreamy. I just want you to think I'm dreamy," he yawns.

 _Huh? Wait... whuh... what?_

"What?"

"I'm thinking I need to join the library. If I take the books without being a member, then it would be like... I don't know, like stealing or something, and that's wrong, Adam. You shouldn't steal. Not even other people's ex-boyfriends." He delivers the whole speech with his eyes closed. He misses Adam flabbergasted look completely.

"But... I never... Do you want to steal Drake?" Adam wants to know the exact moment he lost control of the conversation.

"No, silly. I want...to steal you. Hmmm...I need a picture for my library...pass..."

Adam has always envied how easily Kris falls sleep. Until right now. He spends fifteen minutes watching him sleep, smiling every time Kris lets loose one of his tiny snores. Then he realizes that he's pulling an Edward Cullen here, and he's so horrified of his own stalker-like behavior he actually trips over his own feet on his way out.

 

*******************************

 

"I need you to kill me."

"Before or after dinner?" Adam answers calmly from the sofa. Kris just throws himself besides him, his head over Adam's thighs, his arm covering his eyes. He's pale, and sort of clammy, and Adam wants to feel pity, but he's been trying to rearrange their carefully constructed relationship for the last three hours in his mind, and he's not in a charitable mood.

"Dinner means food. Food is evil." Even Kris's voice sounds slimy.

"I made pasta. You seemed to crave carbs, before."

"Did I?" Kris nudges Adam's arm with his head. It's their non-scripted signal for requesting some scalp scratching. Adam's a little angry, and he wants to be mean and deny Kris any comfort, but he finally caves and run his fingers through the brown strands. Kris sighs in contentment.

"Yes. You also seemed to crave kissing my ex."

"Oh, shit." Shit, indeed. Kris moves the arm covering his eyes and looks at Adam's face.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to..."

"To kiss him?" he asks. He's still petting Kris' hair.

"Are you angry?"

"Should I be?" he asks, instead of answering. People always gush about his eyes, but Adam thinks that Kris has the most amazing eyes he's ever seen. All liquid and warm and honest, always showing what he feels. Once upon a time, he would have given anything to have Kris look at him forever. He thought he could get his feelings for Kris, but he knows better, now. He's figured out that he can always have Kris beside him, as long as he doesn't fuck everything up with wanting what he can't have. He's determined to never fuck up this friendship, so he smiles encouragingly while Kris bites his lip.

"I don't know." Kris sits up. He pulls his legs up and rests his chin on his knees. "It's usually considered bad taste to kiss a friend's ex, but... I'm not so sure about gay protocol. Last week we caught Brad and Cassidy kissing in the kitchen and you didn't seem to mind. And I know you care more about Brad than you care about Drake."

There is silence for a few moments, and Adam asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Embarrassed…and sweaty," Kris answers, wrinkling his nose and closing his eyes. Adams snickers and Kris opens them again. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No, of course not."

"You better not be, because this is all your fault. If you hadn't finished the tequila the other night we wouldn't have had to drink that green stuff... God, I only drank two shots. What was in that bottle, man?"

"I have no idea. It was a present from Brad. He said I would love it, but to use it with caution, because it could cause an adverse reaction."

"Adverse reaction?" Kris's eyebrows raise half way up his forehead. Adam mentally rolls his eyes. Kris is such a hypochondriac…

"Yeah, it can cause hallucinations, horniness, sweating, and in extreme cases, homosexuality." He deadpans, and for a moment Kris just stares. Then he jumps over Adam.

"You asshole!" He shouts, trying to cuff his head. Adam laughs.

"But only in cases where the gayness was latent!" he yelps, avoiding Kris's hands. "Not the hair! Don't touch the hair!" He spent fifty minutes on his hair, this morning. Just because they're at home now, it doesn't mean he doesn't have to look fantastic.

"Oh, buddy, you are so dead meat!" Kris says while Adam laughs his head off. "Wait until I'm not so hung-over, I'll tickle you to death," he threatens, going back to his corner of the sofa and Adam smiles, relieved. Kris might be small, but he's very strong, and Adam's ticklish, so they both know that in almost no time, Kris could have him against the cushions and begging for mercy.

"You should apologize to me," Kris says, mock serious.

"What for? I didn't do anything wrong!" he protests. Kris just looks at him and raises his hands, making an aborted tickling gesture, and Adam gives in. "Ok! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Not enough," Kris says, thoughtful. "I'm not feeling the remorse, dude." And moves his fingers again.

"Come on!" Adam begs. He knows for a fact that Kris has iron fingers; it must come from all the guitar playing. "All right! You win! Only macho males kiss other guys under the influence! Kris Allen is a stud!"

"That's better." He says, and rests his head against the sofa, "I'm exhausted. I'm too old for this shit."

Adam smiles when Kris rubs his closed eyes, grimacing. "Come here," he says, and tugs on Kris' arm. Kris turns his head and opens his eyes, and Adam tugs again. "Come," he repeats and Kris finally comes closer, resting his head over Adam's chest. Adam tangles his fingers in Kris' hair.

Kris tries to wrap his arms around Adam's torso but he jumps, thinking Kris is going to tickle him.

"Relax," Kris says. "Jumpy, much?"

"Don't blame me. You're a fucking menace." Adam sighs.

"Says the man who wears a flogger as an accessory." They laugh again. Then Kris raises his head. "No, seriously. Are we okay, Adam?"

"Sure." Adam smiles. "I don't care you kissed Drake. As you said, he's a good kisser. And he's pretty hot," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kris looks at him uncertainly. "And do you care he kissed me?"

Adam feels his jaw twitch. He doesn't want his arms to tighten, but he can't help it. "No," he says. It's a lie, and he knows Kris knows it.

"You're lying."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He's looking at Kris' eyes, not blinking. He can see Kris is not buying it.

"All right, then I could call him and ask him for, I don't know, a lunch date, or something. Right?"

"Sure." Adam is trying hard to look calm, but Kris is starting to look pissed off.

"But it would be better if we go out to dinner, don't you think? Night is more... inviting."

"Yes," he says, through clenched teeth. Drake, Kris and a warm LA night. Just the image is making Adam want to kill something. With his bare hands. And to hell with his manicure.

"I'm going to wear those new jeans you made me buy last week. With the black leather jacket." That's too much. Adam raises an eyebrow, and there is a teasing smile trying to appear in Kris's face.

"For a straight guy, you seem pretty comfortable talking about dating guys. While wearing leather," he remarks. But Kris just smiles and wriggles a little trying to find a better position, until he's practically lying over Adam's chest.

"What? You don't think I can pull off the look?" He says, and Adam snorts.

"Believe me, even if you could, you're not Drake's type at all." He's not trying to sound patronizing, but the mere idea is ridiculous.

"Bitch, please," Kris says, and Adam laughs out loud, "he was totally into my pants this afternoon."

"Come on, Kris. He was humoring you."

"Yeah, humoring my tonsils with his tongue." Adam laughs again, because this unapologetic Kris is funny, and if this is the after-effect of the drink, he likes it. Maybe he'll put some drops of Brad's present in Kris' soup from now on. Kris is a soup fiend. Dinner talks could be hilarious. "Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I... I mean, would you..." Adam tries to meet his eyes. "No! No, wait; don't look at me, ok? I want to ask you something, and I can't if you are looking at me. Just, hear me out."

"Baby, you can ask me anything. You ought to know that." He tries his calming voice, his "Let's not be sexually intimidating to the nice straight journalist" voice. He pairs it with a reassuring caress to Kris' back, because he doesn't like the tentativeness he heard in Kris' voice.

"It's been eight months since the divorce, and you've been... amazing. You're a great friend, the best, and I'm really grateful. Don't think for a moment that I don't value it." Adam pales. Oh, shit, Kris is going to leave him. He's going to move out, he'll rent an apartment and he'll find a blonde doll to marry and have five kids...and Adam will become Uncle Adam, going every Sunday to their house to eat dinner, because of course Kris' future wife is a great cook and an amazing lover as well, and meanwhile Adam will die old and alone, and cats will eat his corpse, and that's why he's not having cats, like, ever.

Adam's freak out last a few moments, and then he forces himself back to the conversation, because Kris kept on talking, and he doesn't want to look stupid if he has to contribute at any moment. "...And I've tried everything, and it doesn't seem to work. I know I'm really bad at it, so I'm lost here. I want you to be sincere, it won't change our friendship, I promise. Do you think I should stop trying?" And he bites his lip nervously, expecting Adam's answer.

Oh. Well. So much for not looking stupid. He has no fucking idea what Kris has been talking about.

"Uhmmm...yes?" He tries, because it's fifty-fifty and yes is as good place to start as no, in his opinion. Kris raises his head from Adam's chest and looks at him, appalled. Adam hates it when Kris looks disappointed, so he quickly tries again. "No?"

But this seems to be even worse, because Kris abruptly sits, not being very gentle with Adam's stomach in the process.

"Could you be serious for a moment, Adam? Is it too much to ask?" Adam quickly shakes his head. Shouting Kris is Scary Kris. (And also, a little hot, but that's not surprising.) "I'm tired of trying to get you to notice me. So tell me, am I making a fool of myself trying to seduce you?"

"What?" he blurts. The Twilight Zone. That's his life. Adam watches Kris huff.

"It's a good thing you're pretty, 'cause you're not very sharp," he says, and tries to get up from the sofa. Adam's hand catches his arm.

"Wait a moment! I... are you... what the hell?!?" No, seriously, what the hell?

Adam feels like at some point this afternoon he fell down the rabbit hole and he's in a parallel universe where things don't make sense and Kris is the articulate one. He just lays there, gaping, trying to find something to say that doesn't make him look even more stupid.

Kris huffs again.

"I got it, you don't need to be so shocked," he says, and his mouth becomes a thin line. "I was way out of line; I shouldn't have said anything."

Adam gawks at him, trying to find something to say. His fish impersonation must not be that good, because Kris just shakes his head.

"It's cool, we're still friends. No harm." He tries to untangle his arm, but Adam's having none of it.

"Wait a moment," he orders, and Kris stops. "I need a second, okay? I need to process this."

Kris nods, his eyes cautious, and Adam releases his arm and sits ramrod straight. This is, most certainly, a not lying down conversation.

"You've been trying to seduce me?" he asks, because really, he prides himself on his ability to find innuendo even on the Bloomberg Channel, and he can't imagine how it's possible that Kris' attempts had gone completely unnoticed.

"I know I'm not very good at it," Kris says, blushing. He runs a hand through the hair at the back of his head. "Everything I plan backfires. Look at my betting plan, for example."

Adam frowns. Bizarre land. That's where he's living right now. "I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what exactly was your betting plan?" he asks.

Kris crosses his arms over his chest. The posture is totally defensive, but Adam is too distracted to notice. Kris' arms never fail to attract his complete attention.

"Yeah, remember three weeks ago, when I came into your room and you were finishing your make up before the premier?" He waits until Adam nods. "I started to play with the things you had in your cabinet and-"

"And you took out my water lilies tiara and put it on," Adam says, because how could he forget? Of course he remembers that fateful night perfectly. He suspects he's going to remember that night the rest of his life.

"You said that it wasn't my style, and I said that I could totally rock the fuck out of the look, and you bet I would never wear it in public…"

Adam interrupts him. "And you wore my tiara to the premier of Avatar 2." Adam puts a hand over his eyes. "You wore my tiara, a tiara so gay **I'm** not confident enough to be seen with it, to the largest media event of the year." He lowers his hand and looks at Kris sternly.

"You remember," Kris sheepishly says.

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't?" He starts to enumerate. "The paparazzi nearly came when you got out of the car. You made your publicist cry. Our label lectured us for hours. Kris, you gave Perez Hilton A STROKE!" he shouts.

Kris turns his head to the side, mulish. "I don't regret it. The guy is kind of a jerk. He so deserved it. He's always writing nasty stuff about you and your dick, anyway."

Adam tries to choke back a laugh, because he's not sure all of it is amusement. He's afraid half of it is plain hysteria.

"I can't believe you," he says, his hand over his mouth. "Really, I can't believe you did that. And why, exactly?"

"You said that if I did it, you would do anything I wanted," Kris says, like it makes sense. And maybe it does, in this parallel universe Adam's in, right now.

"But you never asked for anything," he says.

"Of course I did! After the party, when we were at the limo, I asked you for a blowjob!" Kris protests.

"I thought you were joking!" Adam objects. "I thought it was for the laughs!"

"Why would I be joking?" Kris snorts. "There's nothing funny about blowjobs, Adam, they're serious business."

Adam looks at his hands at loss for what to say. He bites his lower lip, and risks a glance at Kris, sitting tense at the other side of the sofa.

"I'm sorry?" he tries, but Kris just shrugs.

"Don't sweat it. It's no biggie." But he's lying, and Adam knows it.

And then the whole surrealism of the situation hits him, and he can't help the bubbling laugh that threatens to burst out of him. He tries to choke it down, both hands over his mouth, but it's impossible, because this? This is so them. It's typical, and ridiculous, and sweet, all kinds of bizarre and also a little sad. Of course any kind of sentimental moment between them would turn into a deranged situation. They can't do anything in the usual way, like normal people, because since the beginning of their friendship, they've been ruled by unreality. He starts to laugh wildly, uncontrollably.

Kris seems pissed off, and that's not helping Adam's predicament at all. Now he's laughing so hard he's crying, hot tears running down his cheeks, and his sides hurt.

"I'm glad at least one of us finds this funny," Kris says coldly, and it only makes Adam laugh harder. "Please, don't mind me, I'll be right here dying of mortification."

But the corners of his mouth are curling upward, and Adam knows that means that deep down Kris is laughing too. Adam just leans towards Kris and with a powerful tug, brings him closer. He's still chuckling when he puts his arms around his smaller frame, and rests his head on Kris' shoulder.

"I can't believe you almost gave Simon Fuller an aneurism just because you wanted a blowjob."

"I don't want just a blowjob," Kris objects. He moves against Adam, until he can turn into his arms. "I want the whole deal."

"The whole deal?" he asks, and Kris nods.

"I want the full Adam's boyfriend experience," he says, firmly, and Adam wants to eat him, he looks so delicious.

He smiles and kisses his jaw. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"You never thought about us? Together?" he looks a little insecure, and Adam quickly answers.

"I never allowed myself to think about us. Never dared to hope," he says with a small smile, and Kris scowls. He kisses the furrow between the brows. "But sometimes I…"

Kris looks at him expectantly. "Yes?" he prompts.

"Sometimes I wished you were mine. Back in the mansion, or even on the tour." He shrugs. "It was never a matter of not being attracted to you. It was more about not being ready to lose you. I was determined to have you in my life in any way possible. Friendship was good; friendship was enough. Not having you?" he shakes his head. "That was not an option."

They look at each other for a minute, and Kris raises a hand, caressing Adam's jaw.

"Well, are you going to kiss me or what?" he urges, and Adam snickers.

"You could kiss **me** , too, you know," he says, and Kris snorts.

"Dude, I totally asked you to be my boyfriend. Least you could do is kiss me."

Adam laughs. "You're priceless," he says, and without waiting for a response, he claims Kris' mouth.

And it's perfect, because Kris tastes like laugh and sleep, and a little like home, too. His body fits perfectly between Adam's legs, like he was made expressly for him, to fill the void Adam thought would be empty forever. He's warm and a little sweaty, but Adam is used to Kris' smell by now, he's kind of addicted. Kris leans back.

"But don't think you can distract me, Adam. You so owe me a blowjob…" he says, and Adams starts to laugh again.


End file.
